Self Service Is The Best Policy

[McPhoenixDavid]

Chapter 01​

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Shirō was about to die. Like, actually die. By the hands of some blue-suited lunatic calling himself "Lancer." And, to top it off, with a spear. A spear? Who even uses a spear in modern times?!

He was cornered at the back of the storeroom, the cold wall pressing against his spine as Lancer's crimson weapon gleamed under the dim light. It felt surreal. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening.

His breath hitched as panic clawed its way through his chest. He shut his eyes tightly, his mind racing. He didn't want to die—not here, not like this. Not when there was so much left to do. That man... all those years ago... that man had saved him, given him a second chance.

He wanted to live. He wanted to be a Hero of Justice, to save everyone he could.

But Lancer's spear was already raised, poised to strike. "Prepare to die, boy," the man sneered, his tone dripping with mockery.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" Shirō screamed, his body moving purely on instinct. He threw himself to the left, crashing into a stack of boxes. His arms flailed as he collided with something—or maybe someone—and before he could process it, a blinding light erupted around him.

Lancer cursed, instinctively leaping back. "A summoning?!" His sharp eyes scanned the light, his lips curling into a snarl. "Did this idiot brat actually summon a Servant?"

When the light finally faded, standing there amidst the chaos was a girl. She was dressed in a royal blue dress with silver armour accenting her figure. Blonde hair tied neatly in a bun framed her confused, dazed face, and her striking green eyes blinked slowly as if she'd just woken up from a nap. She raised a gloved hand to rub her eyes like this was all some bizarre fever dream.

Lancer's jaw tightened, his spear steady as he pointed it at her. "A Saber-class Servant," he growled. "Of course. Just my luck that an inexperienced little punk manages to summon the most powerful class." His sharp gaze flickered around the room. The boy was nowhere to be seen. "And the bastard ran away. Typical."

The newly summoned Saber blinked again, clearly not grasping the situation. Then, as her gaze locked onto Lancer, her expression twisted into pure panic. She yelped, tripping over the hem of her own dress and scrambling backward like a terrified puppy.

"S-Stay away from me! D-Don't kill me!" she stammered, crawling against the floor with all the grace of a newborn deer.

Lancer froze mid-step. Was this... acting? Some sort of elaborate ploy to catch him off guard? If so, it wasn't going to work. He narrowed his eyes, but before he could test her, his Master's voice echoed in his head, summoning him back. With an annoyed tch, he pulled his spear back and glared at the girl one last time.

"I'll kill you, Emiya Shirō," he growled loud enough for anyone hiding nearby to hear. Then, with a flash, he vanished into nothingness, leaving the trembling "Saber" alone.

The girl—or rather, Shirō—let out a shaky breath, his body collapsing against the floor. Relief flooded through his system, though it didn't last long. His mind raced. Was he coming back? Was he some kind of mage? This was way beyond anything she could handle.

He shakily stood up, brushing dust off his blue dress—

"Wait. Blue dress?!" He froze, his hands grabbing at the unfamiliar fabric. When had he started wearing a dress?

His mind screamed in alarm as he bolted out of the storeroom, her legs feeling oddly light, his body... strange. He wasn't sure what was wrong, but something was definitely wrong. Desperate for answers, he sprinted straight to the bathroom, his heart pounding as he shoved the door open and stumbled toward the mirror.

The moment he looked into the reflection, he froze.

What stared back at him wasn't Shirō Emiya. No, this was something else entirely.

Blonde hair. Green eyes. Soft, delicate features. It was the face of a girl—except now, it was his face.

Shirō's jaw dropped. Her fingers trembled as they touched her cheeks, as if trying to confirm the nightmare was real.

"Eeeeeeeeh?!"

[—(/-\)—]

Archer followed Rin Tohsaka as she strode confidently towards the house, her sharp heels clicking against the pavement with purpose. He remained a few steps behind, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. This was it—he could feel the presence of Lancer nearby, but more importantly, 'she' was here too. Saber.

It had been what felt like an eternity since he'd last seen her, and yet, even now, her presence made his heart ache with a strange mix of nostalgia and regret. But he couldn't let himself be distracted. No. He wasn't here to reminisce or rekindle long-dead sentiments.

He was here to kill his past self.

Emiya Shirō. The naive, idealistic boy who thought he could save everyone, no matter the cost. Archer knew better now. Those foolish ideals wouldn't lead to salvation—they'd lead to suffering. To sacrifice. To betrayal.

He had to end it.

"Archer," Rin's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was already standing at the front gate, her finger raised and glowing faintly with mana. "We're not going to waste time here. If Lancer's inside, we'll deal with him. And if Saber's here too…"

Archer nodded silently, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the house. Something felt off. He couldn't quite place it, but there was an odd energy in the air.

Rin rapped on the front gate sharply. "Open up!"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, a soft, hesitant voice responded from inside. "W-who?"

Rin's eyes narrowed, her patience already wearing thin. "Open the door," she demanded, the tip of her finger glowing brighter.

"Um," the voice stammered. "Mr. Emiya isn't home…"

Archer froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. That voice—he recognized it immediately. It was Artoria's voice. Saber's voice. But why was she speaking like that? What was going on?

"Bullshit," Archer muttered under his breath.

Rin wasn't buying it either. She took a step forward, her tone growing sharper. "I'll count to three. One. Two. Three—"

BAM.

The door exploded inward as Rin unleashed a small mana beam, sending wood splinters flying everywhere. The entranceway was left wide open, smoke and dust filling the air.

And standing there, framed by the wreckage of the door, was a shocked-looking blonde.

"Tohsaka?!" the girl exclaimed, her green eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and fear.

Rin's gaze hardened. "It's Saber," she said coldly, her sharp eyes scrutinizing the blonde from head to toe. "Where's your Master?"

"M-Master?" Saber stammered, taking a shaky step back. Her blue warrior attire glinted faintly in the light, but her expression was anything but regal. She looked… scared. Pale. Like a cornered animal.

Archer's frown deepened. This wasn't the Saber he remembered. Something was wrong.

"Last chance," Rin warned, her voice like ice as she raised her hand again, mana gathering at her fingertips. "Tell me where your Master is, or I'll—"

Rin tch'd in frustration and barked, "Archer, attack!"

Archer hesitated for only a fraction of a second, his heart twisting at the thought of hurting her. But he had no choice. Orders were orders.

Without a word, he materialized his twin blades, Kanshou and Bakuya, in a flash of steel and mana. With a burst of speed, he lunged at Saber, his blades slicing through the air with precision.

To his utter shock, Saber reacted with surprising agility, darting to the side just in time to avoid his attack. She scrambled towards a nearby cabinet, her hands fumbling for something—anything—to defend herself with.

And then she grabbed… an umbrella.

Archer froze mid-step, his blades still poised to strike.

Saber turned to face him, holding the umbrella in front of her like it was some kind of makeshift weapon. Her hands trembled as she whispered, "Trace, on."

In an instant, glowing mana circuits lit up along the umbrella's surface, covering it in a faint, shimmering aura. The flimsy-looking object suddenly seemed far more threatening, and Saber held it like a blade, her stance wobbly but determined.

Archer blinked, his brain struggling to process what he was seeing. "What the fuck…?" he muttered under his breath.

Rin, standing behind him, looked equally dumbfounded. "Is she… holding an umbrella?"

Where was Excalibur? Where was the legendary blade that had struck fear into so many opponents? This wasn't Saber. This was…

A moron.

"What the hell is going on here?" Archer thought inwardly, his grip tightening on his swords.

Archer's twin blades clashed against Saber's mana-covered umbrella with a loud, jarring clang, sending vibrations up her trembling arms. Despite her best effort, her stance faltered, and with each blow Archer delivered, it became clearer just how outmatched she was.

"Is this really all you've got?" Archer asked, his voice cold and disdainful. He stepped forward, delivering a calculated strike that knocked the umbrella clean out of Saber's hands and sent her stumbling backward.

Saber dropped to her knees, gasping for air. She tried to scramble for the umbrella, but Archer placed the tip of one of his blades against her neck, freezing her in place.

"Stay down," he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Behind him, Rin stepped forward, her arms crossed and an unimpressed look plastered on her face. She studied the defeated Saber with sharp, scrutinising eyes. "Alright, Saber," she began, her voice laced with authority. "This isn't a game. I don't know which legendary hero you were before becoming a heroic spirit, but you are at my mercy now. Got it?"

Saber raised her head, her green eyes burning with a mix of frustration and confusion. "What the hell is going on, Tohsaka?!" she snapped.

Rin's expression hardened. "The fact that you know my name tells me your master already knows about me." She took a step closer, her voice lowering into a dangerous tone. "Tell me where your master is, or I will kill you right here, right now."

Saber gulped audibly, her gaze darting nervously between Rin and the sharp blade hovering near her throat. "Uh… I'm sorry? I'm pretty sure I'm not anyone's slave! And… my Master?" She paused, wracking her brain for something that made sense. "You mean… Fuji-nee—I mean Fujiwara-sensei?"

Silence.

Rin blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Don't play dumb, Saber," she said, her voice sharp. "I know that you—"

"Master," Archer interrupted, his blades still firmly trained on Saber. "I think… there's something wrong with this servant."

"I told you I'm not a slave!" Saber snapped, only to receive a swift kick to the side from Rin that sent her sprawling back onto the floor.

"Shut up," Rin hissed, before turning her attention back to Archer. "What do you mean?"

Archer hesitated for a moment, staring at Saber with an uncharacteristic mix of disbelief and dread. Something about the way she moved, the way she spoke—it was all wrong. He had a sinking feeling, but he had to be sure.

"Um," he began, addressing Saber directly, "what's your name again?" He prayed silently that he was mistaken.

Saber hesitated, her eyes darting nervously between the two of them. "Uh… um… ugh, I guess there's no point in hiding it," she muttered under her breath, before straightening up slightly. "I am… Emiya Shirō."

More silence.

Archer froze, his grip on his swords loosening slightly as the words sank in.

"Sorry?" Rin finally broke the silence, her voice dripping with disbelief. "What did you just say?"

Saber—or rather, Shirō—swallowed hard, his face a mixture of shame and confusion. "I… I'm Shirō Emiya," he repeated, his voice quieter this time.

Rin's jaw dropped slightly. "Are you telling me that you—a servant—think you're my classmate?!"

"I 'am' your classmate!" Shirō shouted back, his face turning red as he jabbed a finger at himself. "I don't know how I ended up like this, but I swear, I'm Emiya Shirō! This is my house!"

Rin pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering curses under her breath. "Archer," she said flatly, "explain. Now."

Archer didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained locked on Shirō—on Saber—whatever this was. He was speechless, which was a rare occurrence in itself. Of all the insane things he'd seen in his long existence, this was… something else entirely.

"Master," he finally said, his voice unusually quiet, "I think this… might actually be Shirō Emiya."

Rin's hands dropped to her sides. She stared at Archer, then at Saber, then back at Archer. "That's impossible," she said flatly. "Shirō Emiya can't be a servant. That doesn't even make sense!"

"Nothing about this makes sense!" Shirō yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "Why am I blonde? Why am I wearing a dress? What the hell is going on?!"

"'I'M' the one asking questions here!" Rin shot back, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "If you're Shirō Emiya, why do you look like Saber? And why are you in a servant's body?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Shirō wailed, his voice cracking slightly. "One minute I was in my storeroom trying not to get killed by some crazy guy with a spear, and the next thing I know, I look like this!"

Archer stared at him, his mind racing. The pieces didn't fit together, but there was one undeniable truth staring him in the face.

"Well," Archer muttered under his breath, "this is a mess."​

TO BE CONTINUED

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[McPhoenixDavid]

Chapter 02​

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A few moments later, Rin sat on the couch in the Emiya living room, arms crossed and glaring daggers at the blonde sitting awkwardly across from her. Her intense eyes burned with the fury of someone trying desperately to make sense of a puzzle with missing pieces. The blonde—who was apparently Shirō Emiya—flinched under her gaze, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap as if that would somehow protect her from Rin's unrelenting interrogation.

"So," Rin began, her voice sharp enough to cut steel, "let's see if you really are Shirō Emiya." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared her down.

Shirō, or whoever this was, gulped audibly. "I-I already told you—"

"Shut up," Rin snapped, cutting her off. "You're going to answer my questions, and you're going to do it right now. Got it?"

Shirō nodded meekly, her green eyes wide with nervous energy.

"Alright," Rin said, narrowing her eyes. "What's the name of our school?"

"Homurahara Academy," Shirō replied without hesitation.

Rin frowned. "Fine. Who's the Student Council President?"

"I-Issei Ryuudou," Shirō said, her voice a little shaky now. "He's a good friend of mine."

Rin's brow twitched. "What about the Archery Club? Who's the captain?"

"Uh, Shinji Matou," Shirō answered, looking away for a moment. "Though I wouldn't call him a good captain. He's… not great with people."

Rin's eyes narrowed further. "And Sakura Matou? Who is she to you?"

"Sakura? She's… she's a friend," Shirō said, her voice softening. "She comes over sometimes to help with cooking and cleaning."

Rin leaned back, her arms still crossed, her expression sceptical but less accusatory. "Hmph. Well, you've got all the answers right so far." She turned her head to Archer, who stood silently by the door, watching the exchange with his usual calm, calculating demeanour. "What do you think, Archer? Is she lying?"

Archer sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. "She's not lying. I've confirmed it already."

Rin's head snapped toward him, her expression somewhere between disbelief and exasperation. "What? You mean—"

"She really is Shirō Emiya," Archer said plainly, his eyes flicking to the blonde sitting nervously on the couch.

Rin slapped a hand to her forehead, groaning loudly. "This is insane. What the hell, Shirō? How are you a servant?!"

"I told you," Shirō said, her voice rising in frustration, "I'm not a servant! I'm an independent citizen of Japan, not some slave!"

"That's not the same thing!" Rin shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "God, I am losing my mind. Archer, go make me a coffee before I completely lose it."

"I'll do it," Shirō said quickly, standing up so abruptly that she nearly tripped over the hem of her blue dress. "I've got it. Just… sit tight, okay?"

Before Rin could protest, Shirō shuffled off toward the small pantry near the kitchen, her movements clumsy and unfamiliar. Rin and Archer exchanged a look, both of them unsure whether to be alarmed or fascinated.

In the kitchen, Shirō moved with a mixture of muscle memory and utter confusion, fumbling with the coffee maker but somehow managing to get everything in place. The sound of water dripping and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

"Uh, Archer, was itr?" Shirō called from the kitchen, her voice hesitant but polite. "Do you want anything? Tea, maybe?"

Archer blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. "Uh, no. I'm fine."

Rin, still seated on the couch, buried her face in her hands. "This can't be happening…"

Meanwhile, Shirō returned with a steaming cup of coffee, carefully setting it down on the table in front of Rin before taking her seat again. "There. Coffee. Just the way you like it, I think."

Rin stared at the cup, then at Shirō, then back at the cup. "…Okay, now I 'really' believe you're Shirō."

Rin's explanation of the Holy Grail War left Shirō with a spinning head. Servants? Command Spells? A battle royale for a magical cup? It sounded like something straight out of a manga, not real life. Yet, here she was, sitting in her own living room, wearing a warrior's dress that didn't feel remotely like her own, listening to this madness. She scratched the back of her head, her green eyes flickering with confusion.

"So, uh… why am I like 'this' then?" Shirō asked, gesturing to herself as if her current appearance were someone else's problem to fix.

"You answer 'me,' Emiya-kun!" Rin snapped, crossing her arms with a glare. "How the hell did you become your own servant?"

"I don't know!" Shirō shot back, throwing up her hands. "I didn't even know servants existed until five minutes ago!"

In the corner of the room, Archer stood stiffly with his arms folded, his eyes closed in an attempt to look calm. Internally, however, he was far from it. His past self was Saber. His past self was Saber. His 'past self' was 'Saber.' The thought looped in his head like a broken record, threatening to shatter what little composure he had left.

Rin, determined to make sense of the situation, leaned forward and grabbed Shirō's hands, startling the blonde. "Alright then, where are the Command Spells?"

"The what?" Shirō yelped, nearly pulling her hands away.

"The Command Spells!" Rin repeated, holding onto her hands tightly and scanning them like a hawk. "Every Master has Command Spells. You 'must' have them somewhere!"

"I don't know!" Shirō protested again, her voice rising in frustration.

"There 'has' to be some Command Spells," Rin insisted, narrowing her eyes. "If you summoned yourself as a servant, they're somewhere on your body." She straightened, her expression turning resolute. "Alright, Emiya-kun, take off your clothes."

"W-WHAT?!" Shirō's face turned bright red as she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. "Why would I do that?!"

"I need to check for the Command Spells," Rin said matter-of-factly, as if this was the most logical request in the world.

"That doesn't mean I'm just going to strip in front of you!" Shirō shot back, her blush deepening. "What kind of ridiculous logic is that?"

"Ridiculous?" Rin's brow twitched, her tone dangerously low. "You're the one who somehow managed to become your own servant, and 'I'm' being ridiculous?"

"Yes!"

"You are 'impossible!'" Rin huffed, glaring at Shirō with all the irritation of someone dealing with a particularly stubborn child.

"Uh, do I get a say in this?" Shirō muttered, shrinking back into the couch.

"Absolutely not!" Rin barked.

Archer sighed heavily, cutting through their argument like a sword through paper. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Whether she has Command Spells or not, it's clear now that Shirō is a Saber-class independent servant. That's all there is to it."

Rin turned her glare on Archer. "Independent or not, she's still connected to the Holy Grail War, which means we need to figure out what she plans to do about it." She crossed her arms again, looking back at Shirō. "Alright, Emiya-kun. The real question is: do you intend to join the war or not?"

Shirō blinked, the weight of the question pressing down on her. "Join the war?" she repeated, her voice quieter now.

"Yes," Rin said firmly. "This war isn't a game, Emiya-kun. There will be a lot of deaths. Servants, Masters, even civilians—everyone involved gets dragged into this cycle of violence. You can't just sit this out if you're part of it."

The room fell silent as Shirō thought. Images of the fire that had devastated Fuyuki City all those years ago flashed in her mind, along with the faces of people she'd sworn to protect. Death and destruction, repeated endlessly, like a circle with no escape. And now, here she was, somehow tangled up in that same cycle again.

"I…" Shirō hesitated, her hands clenching tightly in her lap.

Seeing her pause, Rin's expression softened—just slightly. "You're coming with me," she said decisively.

"Huh?" Shirō blinked in surprise.

"I'm taking you to the church," Rin explained. "The overseer of the war is there, and he'll help us sort this out."

Shirō frowned, glancing down at her hands. "The church…?"

"Yes," Rin said, standing up and dusting off her skirt. "It's where the overseer—my guardian, actually—monitors the war. If anyone can explain this mess, it's him."

Shirō nodded slowly, though she still looked uncertain. "Okay… I guess that makes sense."

"Good," Rin said briskly, turning toward the door. "Let's go. And try not to do anything stupid, Emiya-kun."

Shirō sighed, standing up as well. "I'll try my best…"

Archer followed them out, his usual smirk replaced with a pensive frown. His past self was Saber. No matter how many times he thought it, it didn't get any easier to accept.

TO BE CONTINUED

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